Effugitura
by Insane Anarchist-aka Allie
Summary: One small note can change everything. Held captive in the dark dungeons of Isengard for over three years, Lothien is fighting an endless battle against her own undeniable end. Her only hope lies in one small letter she left in Fangorn Forest...


**Summary:** One small note can change everything. Held captive in the dark dungeons of Isengard for over three years, Lothien is fighting an endless battle against her own undeniable end. Her only hope lies in one small letter she left in Fangorn Forest three years ago…

**Author's Note:** The title, _Effugitura_, is a Latin word, meaning _flee from_, _escape_, or _run away_.

Pippin couldn't help but wonder if boredom made some people hallucinate. Because he _had_ to be imagining the small, rolled-up piece of paper lying on the ground in front of him. After glancing to the side so see if Merry was paying attention to him, he swiftly picked up the tiny roll.

Apparently he didn't imagine the paper, because it now rested in his palm. The roll was about the size of his finger, and the paper a smaller size than even hobbit paper. Pippin carefully unfurled it, letting the tattered sheet rest open. On it was tiny, scrawling handwriting. The words had obviously been written in little time, and the holder of the pen had to have been afraid, judging by how the words were jumbled around the page, barely legible. Pippin struggled to read the note, and found that, after a moment of scanning, it wasn't nearly as hard as he'd thought.

'_To whoever's hands this might come into;_

_My name is Lothien. I am being taken to Isengard, undoubtedly to be tortured for information I do not possess. The orcs are now fighting over what little meat they have, and I sincerely hope I do not cross their minds, for I have little time to write this. Whoever you are, I bid you rescue me, if you can. And if that is not possible, or I am already dead, then please, I beseech you, tell my brother-_'

"What's that?" Merry asked, looking over Pippin's shoulder.

"A piece of paper," Pippin answered innocently, closing his hand around the note.

Merry sighed. "Let me see it, Pip," he said, exasperated. The younger hobbit reluctantly gave him the note. Merry scanned it, eyes growing wider and wider as he read it. "This… Where did you find this?" he demanded sharply.

Pippin shrugged, and pointed in the general direction of the ground. "On the ground. Why?" He studied his cousin's face closely. "What's wrong?"

Merry said nothing, merely handed the note back. "Read it," he said quietly.

Pippin gave him a confused look, but didn't argue. He scanned down the page, finally coming to where he had been before.

'_-my brother, Legolas, that I will see him again, one way or another. Mere force cannot break my will._

_Lothien daughter of Thranduil, Princess of Mirkwood__.'_

"Legolas has a sister?" Pippin asked, looking back through the letter.

Merry nodded. "Looks that way, Pip." He took the note back, and put it carefully into his pocket. "Either way, we ought to show this to him…when we get back."

Pippin looked off towards the Ents, a distant look in his eyes. Merry touched his arm. "We'll get back, Pip."

_Crack. Crack._

Lothien bit the inside of her lip, keeping herself from crying out. Blood leaked from her lip, but she ignored it.

_Crack._

Lothien's breathing became ragged, but she still refused to cry out. She pressed closer to the wall, desperate for support. The next _crack_ never came, as the orcs had left, with the charming parting comment, 'We'll be back.' Lothien groaned softly, and sank into a crouch. Her arms wound protectively around her stomach, and she tucked her head to her knees. A sob was wrenched from her throat, and she fell onto the floor. She pulled her knees up to her chest, and buried her face down.

The torment should be easier to endure, after years of it. But it wasn't at all. Lothien didn't know how she could stand to live each day, with no more outside light than what came through the tiny window at the top of the room.

Lothien uncurled herself slightly, and dragged herself to lean against the bed. She no longer cared if her tattered dress healed into her skin; it wouldn't make any difference. Tears spilled out from under her closed eyelids, trailing down her dirty cheeks, and falling to the floor. "I have to get out of here," she whispered, sliding sideways to the floor.

From outside the solid oak door, Saruman watched the Elf's misery through a small grate. Shutting the grate soundlessly, he turned towards the orc beside him. "I shall deal with her tomorrow," he said sternly, a strange glint in his eyes.

The orc nodded, and strode off, cackling. He and his men had nothing on Saruman's brand of torture.

Lothien opened her eyes when a faint ray of sunlight streamed through the small window. She tentatively moved, and nearly cried out in pain as the movement strained her already-hurting back. A single tear slid down her face as she stood up on unsteady feet. The Elf-maiden gripped the uneven wall with both hands, and took a hesitant step forward. Her body screamed in protest, but she still made herself get the bottle of water laid out by the door.

Just as she was reaching for it, the door swung inward, knocking her backwards. Lothien moaned softly, and looked up-right into the frighteningly calm eyes of Saruman. She scrambled back, fear overtaking her movements.

Two orcs moved in, and each grabbed one of her arms. Saruman wordlessly led the way out. Lothien screamed Elvish obscenities and curses at them, and kicked wildly. One orc was unfortunate enough to be the recipient of one of her kicks, and dropped her arm. Lothien fiercely lashed out at the other, and tore her arm free.

The sudden freedom gave her a burst of energy, and she pushed past Saruman, and sprinted for the stairs. Lothien knew that if she was caught, the punishment would be greater than anything ever dealt out before; but she didn't care. Even momentary freedom was exhilarating.

Her freedom was cut short, however, when Saruman closed his long, cold fingers around her arm. Lothien shrieked obscenities, and fought to free herself, but to no avail. Maybe years ago she could have gotten free, but not now. Her back had split open again, and bled freely. The orcs grabbed her again, roughly, and she bit back a whimper. She couldn't show weakness; not now, not ever.

Lothien was led to a large circular chamber at the very top of Orthanc. She was thrown forward, and fell onto her knees. Blood splattered the ground, and ran down her arms. Tears filled her eyes, and she was taken with a frightening urge to laugh. The whole situation seemed crazy, somehow; Lothien knew that even if she escaped, her death wouldn't be far off.

"I can offer you a choice," Saruman said, voice calm.

Lothien sat back onto her knees, and looked up at him, eyes blazing.

"You can join me-"

"Ce pen-inn," she hissed, standing up on unsteady feet. "I will never join you."

Saruman looked disappointed. He roughly grabbed her arm, and pulled her onto the balcony. "Look around you," he commanded.

And Lothien, despite herself, looked. She saw the thousands upon thousands of Uruk-hai, all ready for battle. Seething, she whirled on the wizard. "Gen fuion," she spat, cerulean eyes flashing. "All this-and for what? To march against humans? Elves? Dwarves? No one has enough power left to challenge an army this strong. You might as well put an orc up against a small mortal child! This is slaughter, Saruman!" As she spoke, tears formed in her eyes. "What good is it ruling an empty land? Orcs are filthy; they disgust you. I have seen it." She shook in absolute fury. "And yet you are going to let them wipe out an entire species? Even two? Or three?" Lothien swept her arm out, back screaming in protest to the movement. "And the Ents! You have mercilessly destroyed them and betrayed them! I would not even _spit_ in your direction." She stepped backwards, closer to the railing. "You are a fool, Saruman. You ask me to join you; would you join the Elves? I think not."

Saruman endured her words calmly, watching without emotion.

Lothien took another step back. "And do you honestly believe Sauron will _share_ power? You are a tool. He will cast you aside the second he gains his power. All of Isengard will crumble: and it will be your doing. By trying to gain the Ring for him, you are bringing about your own doom." Watching his face, Lothien suddenly understood. "No…I see now. You plan to take the Ring for yourself! You are blind to all that you do not wish to see. As long as that Ring remains, Sauron will be more powerful than anyone could hope to contend with." Lothien looked out beyond the walls of Isengard, trying to see anything that could bring her hope. The sheer sight of the sky was almost enough to bring her to her knees, but she refused to show weakness. She watched as the Uruk-hai poured out the gates, and off to mercilessly destroy anything in their path.

Searching the tops of the trees, Lothien spotted one that was taller than the others: and it was moving. _So there is hope_, she thought, fighting back a smile. Watching the tall tree, Lothien suddenly realized what she had to do. And she hated it.

With a sigh, she raised her eyes to look at Saruman. "I have made my decision," she announced, moving closer to the railing. "However strong your armies are, however many of my kin you kill, there is nothing you could say or do to make me join you. Nan lû govaded vîn."

With that, Lothien jumped off Orthanc.

* * *

**Translations:**

-Ce pen-inn. -- You are insane.

-Gen fuion. -- I am disgusted with you.

-Nan lû govaded vîn. -- Until we next meet.


End file.
